Repercussions
by A. X. Zanier
Summary: A followup to 'Brother's Keeper' UPDATED New longer version.
1. Chapter One

  
  
Author: A. X. Zanier  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or basic story ideas to 'The Invisible Man.' any  
additional characters or story ideas are mine. Timeline: Couple of weeks after 'Brother's Keeper'  
but before 'Insensate' Spoilers: Brother's Keeper  
Comments: Due to popular demand I decided to go ahead and write out an entire story. If the  
beginning seems familiar, well it should.  
  
Repercussions  
  
  
One of America's greatest patriots, Patrick Henry, once said, "Is life so dear, or peace so  
sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not  
what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!"  
  
I couldn't agree more. For over a year I had been a slave to the Agency, to the counteragent, to  
the gland. It was time for those chains to be broken.  
  
  
Claire walked the nearly empty halls of the Harding building, making her slow way from the Keep to  
the Official's office. The last two weeks had seemed so very long. She was supposed to remain  
detached, professional, but it was difficult. Two men she cared about, though differently, were  
gone, each in their own way, and it hurt.  
  
When Darien suggested that they try to bring Kevin back using memory RNA, who knew that that it  
would work? She hadn't even thought she'd be willing to go through with it, especially after the  
Official had so adamantly said no. Once again, Bobby had done something that, half a year ago, she  
would have thought impossible for him. He had been the one to steal the sample, right out from  
under everyone else in the Agency. But it had been Darien, throwing her own words back in her face,  
that made any potential argument useless. That and the sight of him standing, soaking wet, on the  
curb outside of her house.  
  
For months he had relied on her to keep him sane, to find a way out for him. She had been less than  
successful on both counts. He was alive and technically sane, most of the time. He was also angry,  
depressed, and very unhappy. Nothing like the person she knew he could be. Gone were any attempts  
at flippancy, sarcasm, or humor. She thought it had been bad a few months earlier when he had taken  
off after that little casino trip. It had been his anniversary of a sort, but it was anything but a  
day of celebration. This was ten times worse.  
  
Now...now she wasn't sure what to do. His chance at parole had been snatched away, and with it had  
gone what little hope he'd still clung to. Kevin might have been a genius, but Claire was starting  
to think he was also a fool.  
  
Kevin. That was a topic in and of itself. It was a good thing the Official had no idea of their  
past relationship. Had he known, she would never had been chosen for this project, and, in spite of  
all the problems, she found the work both fascinating and rewarding. Learning she would be working  
with Kevin's brother had been a surprise. Adjusting to him -- Darien was so very different from  
Kevin -- had taken time, but she now liked him for himself.  
  
She just wished she could help him.  
  
Kevin, in some fit of moral superiority, had decided that Darien was better off, a better person  
with the gland and had, after revealing he knew how to remove it, given himself that damned  
anti-peptide shot and erased himself from the gland. Erasing any hope of a quick solution. Erasing  
any chance of peace for Darien. Erasing any chance of a resolution between herself and Kevin. She  
had loved him, did love him, but right now she was very angry at him and it confused her. He was  
gone, and she hadn't gotten a chance to say goodbye. It hurt.  
  
She opened the door to the Official's office and closed it behind her. She'd been hoping Bobby  
would be here, and gave him a wan smile as she moved closer to the desk. "Have any of you seen  
Darien today?"  
  
"No, why?" The Official barely glanced over at her. He was still angry with her and Bobby for  
helping Darien, though she wasn't quite sure why.  
  
"I haven't seen him since yesterday morning, and he was supposed to meet with me an hour ago. I...  
I'm a bit concerned about his state of mind." Claire was reluctant to admit this, but she was not  
capable of finding him on her own if he decided to do something foolish.  
  
"Is he due for a shot?" The Official really didn't want a repeat of his last little act of  
rebellion.  
  
She shook her head, not surprised that this was the Official's first concern. "No, he got one  
yesterday." She wasn't sure how to explain it. "I'm just worried about him."  
  
"As long as he cooperates, I don't see a problem." The Official turned back to the paperwork lining  
his desk.  
  
"Sir!" His callous attitude was beginning to annoy her. It was bad enough before all of this mess,  
but it had only gotten worse since. Darien might not have a whole lot of choices these days, but  
that didn't mean he should be treated like a thing, a tool to be used and then put away until  
needed again. Once again she wanted to curse Kevin for his selfishness.  
  
"Oh, all right. Hobbes, find him and keep a watch on him." He lifted his head to look at the  
Keeper. "Does that satisfy you?"  
  
"Not even close," she snapped, but before the Official could comment, she turned and left the room.  
Bobby followed a moment later.  
  
"I might know where he is. Care to take a little ride with me?" Bobby asked her, and she nodded.  
  
  
  
Darien was standing over Kevin's grave again. This was getting to be a habit with him, but instead  
of guilt, anger, or comfort, all he could feel was hate.  
  
He had always wondered why Kevin had pushed him out of the way that day, why Kevin had died instead  
of him. Now he knew. In the end, it hadn't been his brother Kevin was saving; it had been the  
precious gland. His life's work. His hope to make the world a better place. His mark on the world.  
Saving Darien guaranteed that someone, someday, would point at his freak of a brother and say 'look  
at what Kevin Fawkes gave mankind.'  
  
It had taken him such a long time to forgive Kevin for doing this to him the first time. To be able  
to thank Kevin for giving him another chance. To be able to look forward with a bit of hope in his  
heart. Hope that had dwindled as the months dragged by, only to return along with Kevin. His best  
chance for finally getting free of the gland, and now it was gone. Like everything else in his life  
he cared about. He was tired -- tired of living day to day without hope, tired of risking his life  
for some nebulous cause he cared nothing about. Tired of being someone he wasn't.  
  
Well, he wouldn't play their game any more.  
  
Hearing voices, he lifted his head to see both Claire and Bobby approaching.  
  
"So they've set the dogs on me already?" He tried to keep his voice neutral. He had been expecting  
something like this since he took off yesterday.  
  
"Fawkes, the Keep was a little worried is all," Bobby said, hoping to prevent Fawkes from bolting.  
He knew his partner hadn't been dealing with things too well, but he'd been rebuffed at every  
attempt to help. In fact, except when Bobby had gone out of his way to corner him, Darien had been  
avoiding him entirely.  
  
"Right. Worried I might take off with that precious gland," Darien's voice was flat, toneless.  
  
Before Claire got a chance to answer, Bobby attempted to change the subject. "He was a good man,  
your brother." Bobby truly believed this. Truly believed he was that fallen hero the flag he set  
at the grave represented. Even with the side effects, he'd seen Fawkes turn from a belligerent punk  
who only cared about himself into someone Bobby truly liked and trusted. He didn't make friends  
easily, but when he did it was for life. Or death, if necessary.  
  
Darien laughed, harsh laughter. "Good man? Maybe. Good scientist? Yeah. Good brother? Never."  
  
"Darien, that's not true. He... he did what he thought was best for you." Claire tried to keep the  
pain she felt out of her voice, but only partially succeeded. She hated seeing him like this, but  
there was very little she could do about it.  
  
"No!" Darien shouted. "Like always, he decided that my feelings, my wants, my needs didn't matter,  
and he took away the last chance I had to get free of this mess." He turned to glare at them. "He  
never once took the time to ask what I wanted out of my life. Did he even ask how I was? How I felt  
about being a lab experiment? Take the time to understand the hell I'm living?" His hands balled  
into fists. "He had no right to decide what was best for me, no matter what he thought he knew."  
  
Neither Bobby nor Claire could answer immediately. Claire found her voice first. "He gave me a  
place to start. It will just take a bit longer is all."  
  
"Oh, yes. You told me. 'Gene therapy'." He turned to her. "Did it ever occur to you that he already  
performed the 'gene therapy' by removing himself?" Based on the shocked look on her face, it was  
obvious she had not considered that. Darien shook his head. "You don't get it. Even after a year of  
watching the hell I've gone through, you still don't understand." He threw up his hands in anger.  
"This... thing is like a cancer eating away at me. I spend every day in fear of going mad, of  
hurting innocent people, of becoming so addicted to the counteragent that nothing will fix it."   
His anger drained away suddenly. "I'm tired of it. My cure was dangled in front of me and then  
yanked away again, by my self-serving brother who never once in his life thought I worth anything."  
  
They both stood there, stunned. "Darien, I..." Claire began.  
  
"I want out." He turned quickly and grabbed her arm. "I want it out."  
  
Claire was sure she had heard him wrong. "I still can't take it out without killing you," Claire  
reminded him.  
  
"I know that. Do you think I could ever forget that?" he shouted at her.  
  
"Fawkes, you can't mean this. You can't want to die," Bobby said to him. He didn't like seeing his  
friend like this.  
  
"I won't live like this anymore." Darien had turned to look at Bobby. "It's killing me, Hobbes,  
and I can't...won't do it any more." He really looked at his partner, trying to make him  
understand. "What the hell do I have to look forward to, to live for? Eventual tolerance to the  
counteragent and a gland harvesting party? Might as well do it now and get it over with, before  
anyone else gets hurt."  
  
"I can't do this, Darien." Claire said, pulling her arm from his now-painful grip. She realized he  
was quite serious, but.... She couldn't do as he asked. "I'm sorry, but I can't do it."  
  
"Fine," he snarled. "If you won't, I'll find someone who will." He turned and walked away from  
them.  
  
Bobby stared after him for a long moment, until Darien's words sank into his stunned mind. Then he  
ran lightly to catch up. Grabbing Darien's arm, he yanked and spun him around. "I can't let you do  
that, my friend."  
  
"What, you think you know what's better for me, too? Gonna take Kevin's place in running my life?"  
Darien's voice was tight, cold. "I thought you were my friend." When he walked away this time,  
Bobby let him go.  
  
"Bobby, we can't let him do this." Claire had moved to stand next to him. If she had realized he  
was this upset, this desperate, maybe she could have done something earlier to help. But she had  
been dealing with her own pain, and had failed to take as much notice of his condition as she  
should.  
  
Bobby shook his head, not sure what to do. He didn't want to become what Darien had accused him of,  
but he also wanted no part of losing his best friend. "Claire, if he really wants to do this,  
nothing will stop him."  
  
"Bobby..." Claire let the emotions seep into her voice.  
  
"I know. We'll follow him." Taking her arm, they headed for the van at a fast walk.  
  
They didn't have much luck. Apparently some of what Bobby had tried to teach Darien over the months  
had sunk in; he managed to lose them in the late morning traffic. After several minutes of grumbling  
about 'smart-ass partners,' Bobby pulled over.  
  
"Can he do this, Claire?" he asked her. He needed to know, because the answer she gave would decide  
what he would do next. He had to try and balance his loyalties to the Agency and the Official with  
his duty to Fawkes, his friend and partner.  
  
"I'm not sure," she answered honestly. Never had she claimed to know Darien well enough to be sure  
what he would do. "I don't think he would go to just anyone. It would raise too many questions."  
  
"So, who could remove the gland?" Bobby started thinking. "Who would he trust with something like  
that, besides you?"  
  
"Bobby, I don't think 'trust' is anything he's worrying about right now." She paused, a frown on  
her face. "He could contact Arnaud; he'd be happy to remove it for him. Then there's Stark." Claire  
realized that this was exactly what Darien might do. When your friends won't help, don't seem to  
care, and you are as desperate as Darien seemed to be... At this point she could see him doing it.  
  
"Damn it. You think he'll do it. You think he'll contact one of them." Bobby allowed the disbelief  
he felt into this voice. Not that long ago, Fawkes had been trying to kill Arnaud. He couldn't  
believe his partner would go to the Swiss bastard now, even for this. Stark, though, was another  
matter. "Not Arnaud, but his doc girlfriend, maybe."  
  
Claire nodded in agreement. "What do we do now?"  
  
"We go tell the boss and hope he'll let us try and find him, before Fawkes does something stupid  
even for him." Bobby moved the van back into traffic and drove back towards the office.  
  
"Bobby...is that wise? Especially after last time?" Claire could not keep the worry from her voice.  
  
"If you can come up with a better suggestion to find him and keep him from doing this, I would be  
glad to hear it," Bobby said, glancing over at her as he drove.  
  
"Can't you track him, watch him?" Claire knew Bobby would try to do his best for Darien, even if it  
meant going against the Official. He'd proven that again just recently.  
  
"Claire," he sighed, "Even I can't be everywhere at once, and I do have to sleep sometime. If I go  
to the boss, we can set up stake-outs at his place and watch Rendell to see if he contacts her.  
Watch his phone for calls. The two of us alone can't cover everything." Bobby hated the look on her  
face as the truth sank in.  
  
"What if he calls in Orion and orders the gland harvested?" Claire had to present the possibility  
to him.  
  
"Claire, isn't that what Fawkes wants?" He turned at the light. "Would you do it if the Fat Man  
told you to? Would you harvest the gland?"  
  
Claire took a moment to consider. "Bobby, there are only two reasons I'd remove the gland. When  
I've solved the problem, or if Darien were already dead." She looked at Bobby. "I'd quit if he  
ordered me to do it for any other reason."  
  
Bobby could not help but feel some disbelief at her words. After the last incident, she'd seemed  
far more concerned that the gland had survived the experience with Stage Five than she had about  
Fawkes. He decided to call her on it. "Are you sure your not just worried about the gland? I mean,  
it doesn't really matter who the receptacle is, now does it?"  
  
"Bobby!" She was truly shocked. "Yes, I'm supposed to protect the gland. If it becomes  
non-functional, even partially, the results could kill Darien." She ground her teeth and argued  
with herself. "Look, thanks to the changes Arnaud made, he is chemically dependent on both the  
gland and the counteragent. I don't yet know how to break the addictions. Plus you can throw in the  
fun fact that the gland itself is susceptible to illness. You've seen this."  
  
"Keepy, I had to know, ya know. You may have sided with Fawkes before, but you're still his Keeper  
first. Even I know that." Bobby needed her to understand that he wasn't accusing or placing blame.  
They would need to work together if they were to have any hope of getting Fawkes back in one piece.  
  
"I understand, Bobby. I'll help you all I can, but I can only go so far without raising suspicion,"  
Claire answered. There was still that Keeper/friend line that she could not completely cross. No  
matter how much she might want to.  
  
"Good enough." He pulled into his usual spot in front of the building. It was time to face the Fat  
Man.  
  



	2. Chapter Two

  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Part 2 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Once Darien finally managed to lose Hobbes, after nearly and hour of creative driving, he knew he'd  
have to move fast. His first stop was the nearest ATM he could find, where he cleared out all but  
the minimum balance in his bank accounts. He didn't like carrying around this much cash, but it  
would only be for a short time. He knew a place where he could stash it in relative safety.  
  
Hopefully this would all be settled within just a few days. More than that and he'd be going off  
the deep end anyway. Then the real hunt would begin, and he didn't think he'd be getting out of  
another situation like that one alive. In truth he didn't want to. If he couldn't cut a deal to  
solve this problem with someone, anyone, he'd find some way to end it. A bullet, a long fall off a  
cliff...hell, stepping into traffic. Any would work just fine.  
  
Getting back in his car, he drove off again. He wanted to be  
someplace different when he made the calls, plus he wanted no part of the couple of guys who'd  
watched him withdraw all the money and were surely contemplating trying to part him from it, by  
force if necessary. Once he was sure they hadn't hopped into a car and followed him, he headed  
towards the beach, figuring he could lose himself in the crowd and maybe find a small amount of  
peace. A few short moments when he wasn't hating almost everything around him, including himself.  
  
Sitting down on some of the rocks overlooking the water, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed  
the first of the two numbers he'd gotten from the Agency computer the day before. The person he was  
hoping for picked up. Once the shock had worn off and several suspicious questions were asked and  
answered, a meeting was arranged for later that day.  
  
Then he made a second call, and had just as much success, though there were a few more questions  
this time.  
  
After he put his phone away, he looked out over the water for a while longer. Was he truly serious  
about this? Was he really so far gone, so desperate for his freedom, that he'd continue this course?  
  
Yes.  
  
He'd told Claire the truth. He wanted out, one way or another. The few things he still cared about  
were not enough compensation for being a virtual slave in a job he hated, surrounded by people who  
cared more for him as a tool than as a human being. All the good things he had done were cancelled  
out by the bad, the evil, the things caused by the madness. The things that everyone else seemed to  
look the other way about. That the Official would cover up, to protect his 'investment.'  
  
He would be the first to admit that the role of the good brother had been filled by Kevin. Darien  
had always been the troublemaker, the one getting suspended from school, the one getting picked up  
for throwing eggs on Halloween, for breaking into the school to steal the answers to the finals,  
for breaking into homes to steal whatever he could fence, for molesting the elderly.  
  
The little good he'd done in the last year or so could not change the facts. The real truth was  
that he hadn't wanted to change. He wanted to be a thief. Was forced into being an agent. He'd  
never been overly fond of other people controlling his life, and now he had more people watching  
his every move than when he'd been in prison. That's how it felt, anyway.  
  
Getting to his feet, he made his way back to his car. He still had time to kill before the first  
meeting, and he had a few things to take care of.  
  
  
  
A couple of hours later he was sitting on picnic table, waiting as patiently as he could. He did  
his best not to think about what he was doing, the risk he was taking, but in the end he realized  
it didn't matter. Even if she set him up, the end result would be the same. He'd have what he  
wanted: the gland would be gone. A voice spoke from somewhere behind him.  
  
"Mr. Fawkes?"  
  
Darien turned to see Doctor Elizabeth Rendell standing about ten feet away from him. One hand was  
stuffed into the pocket of her ankle length coat, and there was a look of fear and terror on her  
face.  
  
"Relax, doc. I'm here to offer you something you want." It was obvious even to him that it was a  
gun she was clutching  
white-knuckled in that pocket.  
  
"What could you possibly have that I might want?" Her voice shook only slightly as she spoke.  
  
"You mean you don't need me to fix Arnaud?" Darien said in a bored tone. Yeah, he was willing to  
trade to get what he wanted.  
  
She snorted in derision. "And you're offering this out of the kindness of your heart, I'm sure. Cut  
the crap. What do you want?" Her disbelief had given her some measure of courage.  
  
"Simple. I'll help you fix Arnaud. You remove the gland." Darien watched for her reaction.  
  
She shook her head as if unsure that she had heard him correctly. "You'll submit to testing and a  
PET scan if I'll remove the gland?" She took a step closer to him. "But I don't know how to remove  
it safely."  
  
Darien laughed bitterly. "I don't care. Talk to 'Arnie.' I'm sure he'd be more than willing."  
  
"Tell me about it," she muttered. "Mr. Fawkes, no matter what you may think of me, I am still a  
doctor and can't condone doing something that would surely kill you."  
  
"Don't start spewing that holier-than-thou doctor crap with me. You are still playing footsie with  
a known terrorist. You kidnapped me not that long ago, watched Arnaud attack me two weeks ago  
without helping, so don't you dare start taking the high road now." Darien got to his feet and she  
backed up a step, once again afraid. "Talk to Arnaud." He pulled out a small business card.  
"Contact me here this time tomorrow with your decision." He set the card on the table and then  
walked away.  
  
Once Darien was out of sight, she moved to the table and picked up the card.  
  
  
  
Darien didn't even bother looking back to see what she would do. He had his next meeting to deal  
with, and this one was going to be a lot more dangerous. He grabbed something to eat and then  
headed out to the local mall. After window shopping for about twenty minutes, he found a seat near  
the huge fountain in the middle of the building.  
  
There were people swirling all around him. People who looked like they had something to live for,  
even if it was no more than going home to argue with their spouse about the bills. He'd love to  
have someone to argue with over something as mundane as the bills. To have concerns that did not  
involve saving the free world from itself on a regular basis. He would much rather be scraping  
together the last of his funds to buy a meal, and casing a place so that he might have money for  
his next.  
  
All these people around him who had no idea what really happened, what really went on to make sure  
they had the freedom to spend a day wasting their last paycheck at the mall. He truly wished he was  
still just as ignorant as they. Still as blissfully happy with his existence.  
  
As he watched, a couple walked by hand in hand, looking disgustingly contented with one another and  
their lives. What he wouldn't give to just be able to hold someone he cared about, without having to  
risk seeing them hurt because of what he'd gotten involved in.  
  
He found himself cursing his brother Kevin again. Most of his life he had wanted to earn Kevin's  
trust, Kevin's respect. He had never succeeded, as far as he was concerned. For an instant the  
image of Kevin dying in his arms flashed through his mind, but he shoved it aside. Instead he saw  
the lab book where Kevin had written his final note to him, his learned opinion that having the  
gland had made Darien a better man. How little Kevin had bothered to learn while he had the chance  
to. Being forced to play the do-gooder did not make him a better man. Being trained to sit and take  
his shots like a good boy did not make him a better man. Taking orders he knew would get him killed  
from someone who blackmailed him with his sanity did not make him a better man.  
  
At this point, it made him a tired, desperate, hopeless man, willing to risk just about anything to  
gain his freedom from those who had taken it away.  
  
The spot he'd been staring at on the floor was suddenly occupied by a pair of expensive black  
leather shoes, and Darien slowly raised his head to see Stark standing before him.  
  
"Fawkes, what's to stop me from having you killed right now?" Stark had such a smug look on his  
face that Darien was tempted to just slap it right off. What, really, did he have to lose?  
  
"Perhaps all the simple people swirling about us." Darien answered calmly. He was pretty sure Stark  
wouldn't try anything here. Glancing about, he spotted five of Stark's goons who had taken up  
positions about the area. There were probably even more he could not see.  
  
"You're learning. Slowly, but you are learning." Stark gave him a slight smile. "You called me;  
what is it you want this time?"  
  
"Nothing much. I want the gland removed and thought you might be willing to do it for me." Darien  
was not in the mood to banter and parry with the man.  
  
Stark laughed. "And why would I want to walk into so obvious a trap?"  
  
Darien shook his head. "No trap. No tricks. Not this time." He reached in his pocket for a card  
and held it out to Stark. "Think about it. You want the gland. I don't." He got to his feet and  
Stark held his ground.  
  
Reaching out to take the card, Stark said, "Why should I trust you?"  
  
"Trust? When was this ever about trust? Wants and needs is all it's about. Do what you need to do.  
Follow me. Check up on me. Whatever. When you make a decision, call." He pointed to the card Stark  
held. Darien didn't bother to wait for an answer or comment, and simply walked away.  
  
Stark watched Darien's retreating back with mixed emotions. Out of the crowd a half dozen men  
appeared around him. "Check out what's going on at the Agency."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Hobbes and Claire stood before the Official, who was frowning at them. "So you let him get away?"  
  
"I didn't *let* him do anything. Some of my training obviously stuck." Hobbes collapsed into one of  
the chairs, feeling tired. Ever since the Kevin thing, Fawkes had been nothing like himself. Bobby  
had hoped, truly hoped, that Fawkes would understand, would see that it had been for the best, but  
that hadn't happened. Instead he had sunk deeper into despair and depression, and there had been  
nothing Bobby could do to help him.  
  
"Well, find him. I don't need another incident to cover up," the Official said in a bored voice. He  
was getting tired of these little rebellions. Maybe another lesson was needed to remind Fawkes who  
was in charge here.  
  
"It's not that simple," Claire said quietly. "He's serious this time. We think he's going to look  
for someone to take the gland out, and to hell with the consequences."  
  
"He wouldn't. He still wants to live." The Official sounded more like he was trying to convince  
himself now.  
  
Bobby shook his head. "No, Chief. He was, is serious this time. And I'm going to need help finding  
him."  
  
Something in Bobby's tone of voice convinced him. "All right. Let Eberts know what you need. Try  
and keep it to a minimum."  
  
Bobby pushed himself to his feet. "You'll have it in an hour."  
  
With a hand resting lightly on her arm Bobby escorted Claire from the office. Once the door had  
shut, the Official turned slightly to look at Eberts. "I think it's time to institute Omega."  
  
"Are you sure sir?" Eberts asked, even as he went to retrieve the necessary file.  
  
"Yes, I'm sure." The Official opened the file Eberts placed before him and, after a moment's  
searching, picked up the phone and dialed the number there.  
  
TBC.... 


	3. Chapter Three

  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Part 3 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Darien waited near the phone booth that he used for his more  
clandestine calls. Not that there had been a lot of those lately, but old habits died hard. The  
time he'd given to Dr. Rendell had come and gone without a ring, so either she hadn't spoken to  
Arnaud -- maybe she had been serious about not wanting to kill him -- or Arnaud still hadn't made a  
decision.  
  
Glancing at his watch again, he noted there were still five minutes until Stark was due to contact  
him. Turning his wrist over, he noted the three segments gone red. His time limit on sanity. He  
tried not to think about what he would do if Stark failed to call as well. Not that there weren't  
enough enemies still to choose from -- the Chinese, for example, would be more than happy to get a  
hold of their own gland. Hell, if he got truly desperate enough, there was always Eddie the  
Mammoth. He'd be more than happy to sell his various organs to people far more worthy.  
  
He was jerked out of his reverie by the ringing of the pay phone. Lifting the handset, he said  
without preamble, "Stark, have you made a decision?"  
  
"We need to speak in more detail. Get in the car please."  
  
Darien watched as a black sedan pulled up nearby and the rear door opened. "Right. I'm not that  
insane yet."  
  
"Fawkes, I will personally guarantee your safety. We will discuss a few things and then you will be  
free to go. I promise, and I do keep my promises, remember?" Stark kept his voice carefully  
controlled.  
  
Darien thought for a moment, and then decided what the hell. What, really, did he have to lose?  
Hanging up the phone, he made his way over to the car and slid in. As soon as the door shut, the  
car drove off.  
  
It was fifteen minutes later when the car stopped. Darien was politely escorted into a nondescript  
building, and eventually into an office where Stark was standing looking out a window. The tableau  
was eerily familiar, and Darien was not sure he liked it.  
  
"Well, I'm here. Talk."  
  
"What if I agreed to your...offer, with a few modifications?" Stark said, without turning to look  
at him.  
  
Darien sighed. Like he was at all surprised. "What kind of  
'modifications'?"  
  
"We will remove the gland, if you agree to come work for us in return. For say five years, or a  
certain number of jobs equal to that value." Stark still looked out the window. He knew he would  
have to play Fawkes very carefully, to draw him in with a deft touch, but that was why he was in  
charge here and not someone else.  
  
"That would be assuming I survived as something other than an oversized eggplant," Darien commented  
sarcastically. "I know my chances of survival with the current techniques; the highest percentage  
currently is about three percent. So your counteroffer, while interesting, is pointless."  
  
Now Stark turned to face him. "Really? And how do you think we created Allianora, or the nano-tech,  
or the cryo-pods? You must have realized by now we have techniques and skills far beyond what even  
most secret government projects have access to." He moved to within a couple of feet of Darien.  
"What you've seen is just the tip of the iceberg. You really have no idea who you are dealing with."  
  
Darien watched the man carefully, and he had to admit Stark had a valid point. He'd seen more weird  
things since encountering Chrysalis than he'd read in those comic books he was so fond of. Deciding  
to call Stark's bluff, he asked, "What would you need?"  
  
"That's simple. The quicksilver files. Everything up to date, including the counteragent  
information." Stark knew this would create a reaction, but the one he received wasn't the one he  
was expecting.  
  
"Gee, big surprise. Then you'll just kill me and build your own. Not much of a deal." Darien moved  
to look out the window himself.  
  
"Mr. Fawkes...Darien...though we know quite a bit about the gland, we also realize we do not have  
all the information." At Darien's lack of reaction, Stark decided to up the ante a bit, something  
he had been prepared to do. "With what we currently know, you would have a fifty/fifty chance of  
surviving the removal. With the full  
information, we could probably give you a ninety percent chance or better."  
  
Darien managed to keep the surprise and the sudden burst of hope off his face. "And I should  
believe you, why?"  
  
"You came to me with the knowledge that it would kill you, and I'm telling you it most likely  
won't. Do you really have anything to lose?" Stark watched as Darien slowly turned to face him.  
"You obviously had no one else to turn to if you are talking to me. What's your next option?  
Stepping in front of a bus?"  
  
Darien kept his poker face intact. No need to let Stark know how right he was. Getting the  
quicksilver files was not something he could do alone, and he didn't really think Claire or Bobby  
would be willing to help if they knew Stark was involved. But there might be someone who would, for  
the right price. "The files are worth a lot more than my glandless services for a few years. I'd  
need something more."  
  
Stark raised one eyebrow surprised that Darien had enough life left in him to even think about  
bargaining. "Ask, and I'll see what can be done."  
  
"Oh, it's not much, and I doubt you'll even miss it," Darien said in a sly voice. He was beginning  
to think this just might work.  
  
  
  
Darien knocked on the door to the townhouse and waited as patiently as he could for it to be  
answered. He heard the grumbling before the door was actually opened. "Fawkes. To what do I owe  
this pleasure? Come to case the place?"  
  
"Monroe, can I come in? I need to talk to you." Darien tried to keep his voice sincere, but it was  
blatantly obvious that she was anything but thrilled to find him on her doorstep.  
  
With a sigh she stepped aside and waved him in. He walked down the short hall and stepped into the  
simply furnished living room. He turned around to say something, and found Alex standing with her  
gun drawn and aimed at him.  
  
"On your knees, Fawkes," she said, gesturing with the gun. "Seriously, what did you think I would  
do if I saw you? Every agent is under orders to bring you in."   
  
Darien sank to his knees and placed his hands on the back of his head with the fingers interlaced.  
He'd been through this more than enough times to know the routine by heart. Moving around behind  
him Alex holstered her gun and pulled out her cuffs. Grabbing one wrist she proceeded to handcuff  
him.  
  
"What if I said I could get you your son?" Darien said quietly.  
  
Alex froze before she finished attaching the cuff to his second wrist. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"I've made a deal with Stark, but I need help fulfilling my end of it," Darien answered, hoping  
she'd ease up soon, as his shoulder was beginning to cramp.  
  
"Why would you help me?" Alex asked in a hushed voice. She relaxed her hold on his arm, allowing  
him to shift to look at her.  
  
He shrugged. "Why not? You don't give a damn about the gland, me, or the Agency. You want your son,  
and maybe Chrysalis destroyed, and nothing else. If you help me, I can help you fulfill one of your  
goals."  
  
Alex was truly taken aback. She undid the cuff and gestured for him to sit. "Explain."  
  
"Does it matter, if you get what you want?" Darien didn't need or really want to explain things. He  
just wanted this over with.  
  
"Assume it does. You seem to want to make some Faustian deal with Stark, to my benefit I might add.  
I'd like to know why." Alex tossed the cuffs on a nearby table and sat down across from him. Even  
she had noticed he hadn't been his usual annoying and childish self of late. She might not have  
done anything to try and help, or even find out why, but she had noticed.  
  
Darien sighed and decided to give her the short version. "Stark says he can remove the gland with a  
good chance of me actually surviving, but he needs the quicksilver files. I haggled. The files in  
exchange for your son."  
  
"And he agreed to that?" Alex said in disbelief.  
  
"No, but he offered to give you location where he's being raised. You would still have to identify  
him and prove he's your son, but that is a far from impossible task." He knew that where her son  
was concerned she would do just about anything. The incident with Adam Reese proved that beyond a  
doubt.  
  
"And you trusted him? Are you a complete fool?" Alex sneered.  
  
"Of course not, but I believe he'll do his best to keep a promise. The quicksilver files in  
exchange for the opportunity for you to retrieve your son." Alex still looked at him with a frown  
on her face. "You were willing to sacrifice Adam to protect your son, and he was innocent. I'm  
volunteering. Let me do this."  
  
Alex shook her head. "Adam...Adam was a different situation. Millions would have died. It was far  
more than just my son I was trying to save." She would defend what she'd tried to do until the day  
she died. She would have hated herself for her entire life, but she would never have regretted  
doing it. She would also never let Darien know how happy and relieved she had been to discover a  
solution that kept the boy alive. At least now there was a chance. "I can't let you throw your life  
away for me, or for my son."  
  
Darien laughed. "I have no life, Monroe. If you don't want to help, fine. I offered, but I will do  
what I have to. I want the gland removed." She opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with  
a snarl. "Don't bother. I've heard all the arguments and I don't care anymore. This, what I live  
with, this is not *living.* This is controlled suffering, torture for the benefit of the State.  
I'm sick of it." He pushed himself to his feet, intending to leave. He had made it to the doorway  
of the room when she spoke.  
  
"What do you need?"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Bobby swore in frustration. Fawkes had gone to ground, and he had spent the entire day checking  
every place he could think of that the kid might possibly go to. There had been watchers posted at  
several places that Fawkes frequented the most often: Kevin's grave, Kensington beach -- where  
Fawkes used to go with Leila Bach -- and his apartment. Then, about an hour ago, the Official  
called off all the extra surveillance without any explanation whatsoever.  
  
Hobbes had contacted Claire, but she knew nothing more than he did. About the only thing that was  
the same was that if Fawkes were spotted, he was to be brought in alive -- not necessarily  
unharmed, but alive. None of the big guns had been brought in yet to track him down, and Hobbes had  
to wonder just what the hell the Fat Man was thinking by calling off the search. So Hobbes did the  
circuit. Keeping in mind the time of day, he hit the places Fawkes would commonly go to. His  
favorite take-out places, the few bars he sometimes hung out at. The liquor store two blocks over  
from his place that he hit at least once a week.  
  
He had contacted the pair that were keeping watch on Dr. Rendell -- in hopes she would lead them to  
Arnaud -- and was told nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Stark, on the other hand, was a  
slippery bastard. He had slipped the tails placed on him, so they had no idea what he'd been up to  
for the last day and a half. Fawkes had shut off his cell phone, so they couldn't triangulate on  
the signal, and he'd apparently found their latest tracker and flushed it along with all the rest.  
  
"Damn it." Hobbes hit the steering wheel and yelped as he nailed the bruise he'd given himself  
earlier when he'd punched a wall out of frustration. Making a decision, he started the van and  
headed back to Fawkes' place. He'd have to pick up clothes some time. Hobbes knew from Eberts that  
Fawkes had pretty much cleaned out his bank accounts before they'd had had a chance to put a freeze  
on them. Fawkes could be anywhere by now, though Hobbes suspected he was still in town. Everything  
he needed was still here. At least, so Bobby hoped. Maybe he'd read the entire situation wrong.  
Maybe Fawkes would want to make peace with what family he had left. Damn, his aunt up in Cold  
Springs. Could Fawkes have headed there?  
  
Slowing at a stoplight, Bobby pulled out a bottle of pills and quickly opened and swallowed one.  
Without Fawkes around to constantly pester him about them, he tended to forget. He hated taking the  
damn things anyway.  
  
Nothing was going right today. At least the Fat Man hadn't called him back in. He parked down the  
street from Fawkes' place and settled in to wait.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Darien opened the door to his apartment with a bit of trepidation. He knew the place was being  
watched, had spotted the watchers there earlier, but now they were either hiding better or had been  
sent away. Shutting the door quietly, he surveyed the place. It looked like Bobby, or someone  
anyway, had been here looking through his stuff, but that was about it.  
  
"Well, Darien. You're looking quite good."  
  
He just barely managed to keep from going quicksilver. Twice now he'd walked into his own apartment  
and had the dickens scared out of him by a woman, though this time he was even more surprised than  
the last. "Casey?"  
  
He watched as she got to her feet. She'd let her hair grow since the last time he'd seen her, but  
she looked wonderful. "Angela, now." She walked over to him and slapped him as hard as she could  
across the face. "That's for lying to me."  
  
He turned away and went to his kitchen. "I deserved that, I suppose. You can leave now."  
  
"I'm afraid I can't do that," she said, rotating to follow his movements. "Thanks to my getting  
mixed up in that mess, my life is owned by the government."  
  
Darien snorted. "Sounds familiar." He opened his fridge and pulled out a beer. It was looking like  
his plan to come in, grab a few things, and get out wasn't going to happen. "What do you want? More  
revenge? I lied. You left. After saying you would help. Is there really anything else?"  
  
"What do I want? I want my life back." She sounded nearly as bitter as he felt. "Why did you do  
it? Why did you attack that old man?"  
  
Darien slammed his beer down on the counter hard enough to make it foam and bubble out all over  
the place. "Why are you even bothering? You didn't care then. Wouldn't listen to me then. Didn't  
believe me until you saw for yourself what they'd done to me." He stalked over to her and she  
backed up until she hit the wall. "Do you really want to know what happened?"  
  
She nodded, trying to keep her composure. He was scaring her.  
  
"Yeah, I broke in to rob the guy. But I didn't molest anyone. The damn fool had a heart attack when  
the explosives I set went off." He slammed a fist into the wall next to her head. "Not all my fault;  
somehow I doubt I had anything to do with his waiting for the oxygen guy. More likely a lifetime of  
smoking." He turned away. "Did I do the smart thing and grab the goods and run? No. I had to try  
and save the fool's life."  
  
He slumped down on his bed.  
  
"You saved his life?" She was suitably stunned. "I didn't know."  
  
"Of course you didn't know. You didn't listen to thing I tried to say. Wouldn't let me explain." He  
rubbed one hand across his face. "Since you wouldn't listen..." He shook his head and stared at the  
floor. "You. I thought you loved me, and you wouldn't even let me try to explain. So I gave up. I  
didn't even bother trying to convince anyone else. What was the point, after all?"  
  
She didn't know what to say. Wasn't sure there was anything she could say.  
  
"So I got the joy of being sent to prison for the rest of my life because I saved that old fart."   
The anger was back. His head snapped up to look at her. "And you want to know the real irony?"  
  
She just watched him.  
  
"I would be better off if I was still in there." He pushed himself to his feet. "Feel better now?  
Is your conscience eased? 'Cause right now I don't want company. I have things to do."  
  
"Darien, I'm sorry. You have every right to be angry." She watched as he grabbed a duffle from  
under his bed and began to fill it with clothes and other items she didn't recognize. "You want to  
grab some dinner?"  
  
Darien froze, suddenly suspicious. "Who sent you?" he snarled. "The Fat Man? Figuring if some of my  
past came back and made nice, I'd fall back into the fold?" He stuffed a few more items in and then  
shut the bag. "Tell him he was wrong. I'm not buying any today."  
  
Casey bit her lip. It hadn't taken him long at all to figure out what was going on. "No, Darien.  
Let me help you. Just dinner. Talk and nothing else." She was still a doctor, and it wasn't hard to  
see that it was more than just some dissatisfaction with work that was bothering him. "I haven't  
seen you in over a year. I...I'd like to hear what happened, after...after..."  
  
"After you left? Again?" He walked over and glared down at her. "After I saved your life from  
Arnaud, and you walked away again?"  
  
She nodded. "Yes, please."  
  
He realized she wasn't going to back down. That she would keep going after him until he gave in. He  
still had a decision to make, and he didn't want any complications. "Fine, but we do this my way,  
and when it's over you leave and never come back."  
  
"All right." She knew better than to argue. She'd gotten her foot in the door. Now she had to keep  
it there.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  



	4. Chapter Four

  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Part 4 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Darien checked his watch again. He still had a couple of hours to kill. Casey...Angela looked more  
than a little uncomfortable. He'd given her a rough, simplified version of his last year and she  
had sat, disbelieving, through most of it.  
  
"Why did you just leave?" he asked suddenly. Literally the day after she had promised to help, he  
had gone back to the hospital to meet her for lunch and been told she was gone. That she'd been  
transferred elsewhere. Just days later, he had the joy of meeting Claire, his Keeper.  
  
He had felt abandoned. She might have never let him back into her heart because of the mistakes he  
had made, the lies he had told, but she had said she'd help him. Even if, ultimately, she had been  
unable to help solve the problem, she could have been someone to talk to. Someone who wasn't part  
of the Agency, someone who'd care for him as a person and not as the receptacle of one very  
expensive gland.  
  
"I...I was forced to. They told me it was for my protection. That Arnaud was not dead and could use  
me against you." She looked down at the ground. "They wouldn't even let me call you to say good-bye."  
  
"Case, I didn't know. I had nothing to do with it..." He trailed off, realizing he'd had  
everything to do with it. He had gone to her for help and gotten her mixed up in his quickly  
imploding life. In return, the life she knew, the one she had enjoyed, had been ripped away. "Damn  
it." He got to his feet and began to pace along side the table. "They separated me from  
everything. Made sure my only real connections were with the Agency. Made me dependent on them,  
above and beyond what I would have been anyway." This just reaffirmed the decision he had made. He  
was tired of being manipulated, tired of being a pawn in a game he didn't want to play. "Go home,  
Casey."  
  
"I can't do that. My offer still stands. Let me help." She went to him and set a hand on his arm.  
  
He stared at her hand until she withdrew it. "I don't want help any more. I want out."  
  
"Maybe I can do that for you," she said quietly. She knew she was about to overstep her bounds, her  
dictate, but she didn't care. It was obvious that Darien was miserable, and she was still a doctor.  
And, no matter what he chose to believe, she did still care. About him, and not the gland.  
  
Darien laughed. "Sorry Case, you're good, but even I know this is way out of your league."  
  
She nodded. "You may be right, but we'll never know until we try. I'm willing to. Are you?"  
  
Darien backed away from her. "Why? The Fat Man tell you to use any means to bring me back into  
line? Tell you to get the poor boy laid if necessary?" As he watched, Casey blushed bright red. "He  
did, didn't he? I always wondered why he chose a young, enigmatic blonde for my Keeper. She was  
supposed to keep me in all things."  
  
"Damn it, Darien, does it look like I'm trying to seduce you?" she shouted at him. "Coming here was  
not my choice, just as leaving was not my choice." Her voice dropped and she sat back down on the  
bench. "I don't give damn about the gland. Let me help *you.*"  
  
"How? What do you think you can do?" Darien sounded defeated. She wasn't going to give up, wasn't  
going to stop pushing until she knew everything. That had always been one of the things he'd...he'd  
loved about her. If she had just pushed a bit harder back then, things might be very different now.  
  
"I don't know yet. At the very least I can be there for you. I can't pretend to understand what  
you've been through, but I'd be willing to help you deal with it." Casey watched him carefully and,  
based on his look, she was afraid that anything she could do would be far, far too late to make a  
difference.  
  
"Thanks, Casey. But it's too late for anything like that." He turned and looked off into the  
distance. "I'm going to leave now. I have things to do." He looked at her, gave her a small smile.  
"It was nice seeing you again, Casey." Darien turned and walked away then, leaving Casey to stare  
at his retreating back. Not once did he pause or glance back, and that, more than anything else,  
scared her.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Alex and Darien were standing down the street from the Harding building, having a bit of a  
disagreement. Not that this was anything new, but Alex was finding that, without Hobbes around to  
play off of, Fawkes was far more articulate and perceptive than she'd thought him capable of being.  
  
"You do realize that I could be ruining my entire career if I do this?"  
  
"What's more important? Years of unrecognized government service at a back-water Agency that we  
both know you really want no part of, or going into the private sector with your son?" Darien  
didn't need her turning yellow now. For this to work they needed each other, no matter how much it  
hurt.  
  
"Fawkes, it isn't that easy to manipulate me," she snapped.  
  
"Really? Then what are you doing here?" He had no problem with putting her in her place right now.  
The worst she could do would be to turn him in, and then he would simply try again at some later  
point in time.  
  
Alex closed her eyes and pulled herself together. Her priorities had changed in the last year. Her  
pregnancy, her son, had changed her, and as far as she was concerned he could and would always come  
first. Somehow she would justify what she was about to do -- and do it she would -- pull whatever  
strings were necessary. She had to take this risk if there was the slightest chance she could get  
her son back. "Fawkes, you do your job and I'll do mine." She looked at her watch. "We'll meet in  
one hour."  
  
Darien nodded and quicksilvered. She knew he was on a severe time limit, so she crossed the street  
quickly with him right behind her. Using her key, she entered the building and made her way to her  
office. Darien went downstairs to the Keep. His job was to provide the distraction while Alex made  
copies of the files. What better way to cause a ruckus than to try and steal the counteragent yet  
again? She hadn't explained how she was going to get access, or how she would get the files, but  
Alex had assured him that she could and he didn't doubt her.  
  
Darien opened the door to the Keep and waited until it had had shut behind him before allowing the  
quicksilver to flake off. He headed straight for the refrigerator where Claire typically kept the  
counteragent, and was not surprised to find none there. He then moved over to the file cabinet on  
one wall. Once he had ascertained that it was indeed locked, he pulled out his lock picks and  
within seconds had the drawer sliding open before him. Picking out a couple files that looked  
interesting, he began to thumb through the first and discovered it involved more experiments on  
rats. With a look of disgust he closed that one and opened the next. He hadn't rescued 'Darien'  
just so she could start torturing a new batch of animals. Like her giant walking, talking lab rat  
wasn't enough. He spent a few more minutes glancing through the files, killing the necessary amount  
of time.  
  
Leaving the files piled carelessly on one of the tables, he moved over to one to the computers and  
turned it on as he had been told to do. When the screen requested a password, he keyed in a word at  
random and got the expected 'invalid password' and the option to try again. Apparently after the  
'Arnaud-as-Eberts' incident, they had changed the security on the system a bit. Alex knew how to  
use it to her advantage, apparently.  
  
He keyed in a second random password and got the 'invalid password' message again, as well as a  
warning. One more incorrect entry would result in the system locking him out and cause an alarm to  
go off, warning of an illegal attempt at accessing the system. That's what he was trying to do.  
  
Just as he was keying in the final incorrect password, the door to the Keep slid open and Claire  
walked into the room.  
  
"Darien," she hissed at him. "What are you doing here?"  
  
He hit enter before turning to her. "What else?" He held up his wrist so that she could see he was  
more than half gone already.  
  
Then she noticed the flashing on the computer screen. "Damn it, Darien. Security will be here in a  
moment."  
  
"And? You gonna turn me in?" He just looked at her. This was truly a test of which was more  
important to Claire: the Agency or Darien Fawkes. "I've found a possible way to get it out with  
reasonable safety. Are you going to stop me?"  
  
She spun about from the computer, where she was trying without success to override the shutdown.  
"Darien..." She saw his look. At the very least, she realized, he believed it was true.  
  
Whoever he had gone to had convinced him that it could be done. "Just, if you can, let me review  
the method before they do it. A second opinion. Please?"  
  
"I'll consider it." He turned away, intending to leave before security arrived.  
  
"Wait." She rushed to one of the other refrigerators and, after unlocking it, pulled out a small  
vial, grabbed a clean syringe and handed them to him. "It's not a full dose, but it should gain you  
a couple of days."  
  
He took them from her, stunned. "Claire, I..."  
  
"Be careful. Now go. I'll cover as much as I can." She gave him a shove to get him moving and  
watched as he quicksilvered, just before the door opened and two agents on security detail entered  
with guns drawn.  
  
Having completed his part of the plan, Darien headed out of the building and off into the night as  
quickly as possible. Once around the corner from the building, he desilvered and headed to the  
meeting place. He had about twenty minutes to wait.  
  
Alex showed just a couple of minutes late with a smile. "I don't know what you did, but the  
distraction was perfect." She held out a small case, which he guessed contained all the  
information he needed on disks. "I got everything, including the information you recently recovered  
from Arnaud."  
  
He took the case from her and held it a bit gingerly in his hand. In some ways, his life was in  
those files.  
  
"Some of it might be encrypted, but I doubt that will be a serious problem."  
  
He looked her in the eye, not sure what to say. "Thank you."  
  
She shook her head. "Don't thank me yet. Right now all we have is the files. We both want more."  
  
Darien nodded. "Thank you anyway. I'll contact Stark and arrange a meeting. Do you want me to  
contact you with the info?"  
  
"Fawkes, on this occasion I think you could use some back-up." Alex really wasn't trying to  
interfere, and she did know that he had outmaneuvered Stark twice before, but there were still too  
many risks.  
  
Darien shook his head vehemently. "Too risky." If this was a set-up and Stark was going to do  
nothing more than kill him, he wanted no one else there. He wanted out, one way or another, but  
there was no way in hell he'd take anyone else with him, willing or not.  
  
"Just to verify the information, no more. If Stark is on the  
up-and-up, I'll leave. I don't give a damn about Chrysalis. I just want my son back."  
  
Darien knew she was a good actress, but this was not acting. "All right. I'll have to make Stark  
aware of it. I'll set up the meeting someplace public."  
  
She raised and eyebrow, impressed. "Fawkes you might actually make a half-decent agent one day. Are  
you sure you want to do this?"  
  
Darien was surprised by the almost-compliment. "Monroe, this was never what I wanted. I may have  
been a lousy thief, but it was my choice. Playing secret agent was never one of my dreams as a kid,  
and it still isn't." He handed her another one of those business cards. "Call me at ten am and I'll  
fill you in."  
  
She watched him turn and walk away as she slid the card into the pocket of her jacket. "Good night,  
Darien."  
  
  
  
Darien was unlocking the door to his room at the motel when he was once again startled by a female  
voice. "Why am I not surprised?" Casey said from just a few feet away.  
  
Darien snarled at her. "Get out of my life. I have no interest in going back to being the Agency's  
trained freak." He entered the room and Casey quickly followed, not giving him a choice in the  
matter.  
  
"Darien."  
  
"How the hell did you find me?" he snapped at her. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and  
pulled out the case and the vial of counteragent. The headache was pounding away. That annoying  
knocking in the back of his mind that was his demon, his soulless id waiting to come out and play  
those darker games only it found amusing.  
  
She actually laughed. "You brought me here that one weekend,  
remember? You said it would be fun to spend a weekend in a cheesy motel." She stepped closer to  
him. "I seem to recall we spent pretty much the entire weekend in bed."  
  
Darien closed his eyes. He hadn't realized. He'd thought he'd picked this place at random. "Please  
leave, Casey." He didn't need any more reminders of everything he had lost, everything he could  
never have again.  
  
"I won't do that," Casey said quietly. When Darien opened his eyes, she couldn't help but see all  
the pain in them. He really was as unhappy as he claimed to be. As far as he was concerned, there  
was nothing in his life worth even trying to fight for, to live for. Not so long as he was still  
plagued by the gland.  
  
"Case, you don't want any part of me," Darien said in a hushed voice. He didn't need to look at his  
wrist to know how close he was to Stage Two. He could feel it. Feel that ... that ... thing getting  
ready to make itself known. And he knew if he let it continue, didn't do something, that she would  
quickly become its focus. All his anger and frustration would get heaped upon her and she might  
very well not survive it. "You seem to have forgotten what it does to me. Shall I give you a  
reminder?"  
  
He quicksilvered his arm and she backed away, astonished. He realized that she had never actually  
seen him do this. That she had only been told about it. The use of quicksilver did have the desired  
effect, as the pain in the back of his head reached that explosive, mind-searing point and drove him  
to his knees.  
  
She rushed to his side, unsure what to do to help him. It was obvious he was in severe pain. She  
had to assume it involved the gland, but beyond that she knew very little. When he finally relaxed  
and started to sit up, she didn't move, tried to help him. "What can I do?"  
  
"Do? Oh, I can think of quite a few things you can do," Darien said in a carefully controlled voice  
that frightened her. "Most will leave me feeling quite satisfied, but you ... you will probably be  
left feeling a great deal of pain. If you're alive at all." Grabbing her by the back of the neck,  
he pulled her in close and kissed her. A violent, vicious kiss that she fought against. Her fists  
struck at his chest, trying to get him to release her. In the end it took her biting his lip hard  
enough to draw blood before he relented and let her go.  
  
She backed away and sat on the floor in shock.  
  
"Are you satisfied now?" Darien was back. The pain in his voice evident. Digging into his other  
pocket, he pulled out the syringe, which was thankfully undamaged. Pushing himself to his feet, he  
fought against the pain, the urge to go after her. Instead, he slipped the needle through the  
stopper of the vial, like he'd seen Claire do a hundred times, and tried to fill the syringe with  
the counteragent. He found himself fighting against conflicting urges, and shook in place.  
  
He felt hands over his and watched as Casey removed both items from his shaky grip.  
  
She efficiently filled the syringe and set the empty vial on the table. Darien quickly shed his  
jacket and slid up his sleeve. "Into the vein," he instructed, and she did. By the time she  
withdrew the needle, the pain was swiftly fading. His anguish, however, was far from gone.  
  
"I'm sorry, Casey, but you had to see for yourself." He moved over to the bed and collapsed onto  
it. "That's just the beginning. It gets so much worse from there. I...I...I'm sorry."  
  
She debated only a moment, then walked over to stand in front of him. "I understand now. What can I  
do?"  
  
"Leave, damn it. I don't want you or anyone else getting hurt ever again." He shoved her away and  
got to his feet. "Why won't anyone understand that? Everyone else thinks they know what's best for  
me, what I should do and exactly how I should do it. But not one of them has bothered to ask me.  
Just leave." He sounded so lost, so defeated, that she couldn't help but pity him. She mentally  
shook herself. Pity was not what he needed. He needed someone to listen to him. To understand,  
without ulterior motives. To help  
unconditionally, even if it meant the risk of losing him.  
  
"Darien, I meant I will help you get the gland out." Darien didn't even move, and she knew he would  
have a hard time believing a word she said. She decided to tell him everything. "The Official called  
me here to bring you back. I didn't have much choice. He could bury me and see to it that I never  
practice medicine again. I... I'm his last option before having you hunted down." She held her  
place, watching him. Hoping for any reaction at all, not just those slumped shoulders and the bowed  
head. "He claimed you were just being rebellious and that I could talk you back in. That a friendly  
face, who wasn't Agency, could bring you back to your senses. He was wrong."  
  
Darien turned then to look at her. Not quite sure what to believe.  
  
"This isn't some spat, some teenage rebellion on your part. You really want out, don't you?" Casey  
asked quietly.  
  
"It's killing me, Case. Who I am is being destroyed, and every time I get another shot or fall into  
the madness, I get further away," he answered truthfully. "I may have not been the greatest person  
in the world, but ... but.." He wasn't sure how to explain it.  
  
"I won't make you go back, Darien. The Official is wrong." She moved over to him and set one hand  
on his arm. "Please, let me help."  
  
Darien nodded, then turned and rested his forehead on her shoulder. She wrapped her arms lightly  
about him, giving him what little comfort she could.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
TBC.... 


	5. Chapter Five

  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Part 5 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Bobby stared over his steaming cup of coffee at the blonde leaving the cheap motel. Somehow he had  
missed seeing Fawkes, but he'd caught her leaving his apartment the evening before and followed  
her. She had ended up here at the Drive Inn Motel, where she had apparently spent the night. It was  
driving him crazy; he almost, but not quite, knew who she was.  
  
As he watched, she walked to an obvious rental car and climbed in. Since he had not seen Fawkes at  
all, he decided to follow her. Somehow he knew she was important, and for all he knew she could  
lead him right to Fawkes and save him another night of sleeping in the van.  
  
Bobby was nowhere near as surprised as he should have been when she parked just down the street  
from the Harding building and made her way inside, as if she had been there hundreds of times  
before. He parked in his usual spot and followed along. He walked down the hallways quickly, going  
straight to the Official's office. Without knocking, he flung open the door to find the woman  
glaring at the Official.  
  
"Hobbes, get out!" the Official barked at him.  
  
"No can do, sir. I followed her from Fawkes' place and I'm betting she can tell me where he is."   
Bobby walked over to the woman and finally got a good look at her. That's when he finally  
recognized her. "Casey O'Clare." Fawkes' ex, in much the same way Viv was his own.  
  
"Damn it, Hobbes, stay out of it this time." The Official sounded more than a little irritated.  
  
Casey turned to look at Bobby. "You're Hobbes?"  
  
He nodded. "Where is he?"  
  
She shook her head. "As I was just explaining to your boss," she said, turning to look at the  
Official, "I won't help you. Ruin my career, I don't care. You obviously don't."  
  
"Miss O'Clare..." Eberts began, but she cut him off.  
  
"Angela, remember? Angela Brewster. You took my life away almost as efficiently as you stole  
Darien's." Her voice was so cold that the Official was surprised.  
  
"We were protecting you," Eberts commented.  
  
"Bullshit. You were simply cutting Darien off from any outside contact. Making sure he only had you  
and your people to turn to. It took him all of five minutes to figure out that you'd sent me to  
bring him back." She paused to take a deep breath and get back into control. She wanted to scream  
at these people. What they had done was nothing but slow, long-term torture as far as she was  
concerned. "I won't be a party to it. If you want him back, you will have to hunt him down. And  
you'll have to go through me to get to him."  
  
"That is exactly what we will do." The Official kept his voice emotionless. He turned his head  
slightly. "Eberts."  
  
"Sir."  
  
"Call Orion. I want Fawkes back by this time tomorrow." The Official glared at Casey.  
  
Bobby protested. "Sir, don't do that. Give me a chance to find him. To talk to him." When the  
Official showed no response whatsoever, Hobbes set his hands on the desk and leaned over at his  
superior. "Damn it, you owe it to him."  
  
The Official raised one eyebrow at Hobbes. "Eberts, hold off."  
  
"Yes, sir." Eberts had never actually moved.  
  
"You have twenty-four hours, Hobbes. Then I put out the order to have him brought in, by any means  
necessary." With that statement, the Official turned back to the papers on his desk, dismissing  
the two standing before him from his mind as well as his office.  
  
Bobby took Casey by the arm and led her from the room. "We need to talk."  
  
She wanted to say no, but from what Darien had told her, this man was the one person he trusted  
with his life. "All right."  
  
"Come on." Bobby led her downstairs to the Keep, where he was hoping to get a few items from  
Claire as a precaution.  
  
Casey was more than a little nervous as he led her deeper into the building. Considering some of  
the things Darien had told her, it wasn't surprising that she was feeling more than a bit uneasy  
here.  
  
When they stopped before a metal door, she heard Hobbes curse under his breath. Pounding on the  
door, he called out, "Claire, open the damn door. We need to talk."  
  
Seconds later the door slid open. Bobby waved for Casey to enter ahead of him. Walking through, she  
came face-to-face with a lovely blonde woman wearing a dark purple lab coat. "The Keeper, I  
presume?" she guessed. "Now I see what Darien meant when he called you 'enigmatic.'"  
  
Claire looked a bit confused, but then she recognized the woman in front of her from Darien's file.  
"Casey O'Clare?" Claire closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Please don't tell me  
you are Solution Omega?"  
  
"Was, you mean. I don't know whether to give you the benefit of the doubt, or just go ahead and  
hate you on principle." Casey was not in the mood to be kind to these people. She'd spent most of  
the night dealing with a depressed and bitter man, so very different from the vital, joy-filled  
hedonist she had once known and loved. He had been turned into a virtual stranger, one who wanted  
nothing more than to be free of the living hell his very own brother had dumped him into, even if  
that freedom cost him his life. It was sad. At one time Darien had been so very proud of his older  
brother, of how smart he was, of all the good things he was trying to accomplish. Now the only  
feeling he had left was a cold and bitter hatred.  
  
Claire just shook her head. There was no way Casey could understand. She had done what was  
necessary to keep Darien alive and reasonably healthy over the last year. The fact that she'd been  
unable to give him any real hope was something that bothered her every single day, but the only  
thing she could do was to work all that much harder towards finding a solution of one kind or  
another. Either to removing the gland or, at the very least, to permanently counteracting the side  
effect Arnaud had created. Either way, it would take time. "I've done my best to help him."  
  
"Your best to *keep* him, you mean." She turned to Bobby before Claire had the chance to respond.  
"Why are we here?"  
  
"We are here because Claire has the stuff we need to bring in Fawkes safely," Bobby explained. They  
would need to work together to bring him in unharmed and sane.  
  
"Bobby, someone broke in here last night and stole all the  
quicksilver files. I'm under a security watch. I should be able to issue a couple of tranq guns,  
but not much else." She moved to the locked cabinet where they were stored and proceeded to open  
it.  
  
"Stole the quicksilver files?" Bobby asked, to make sure he had heard her right.  
  
"Just copies. I still have all the information, and counteragent waiting for when he's brought  
in." Claire checked the guns over carefully and made sure the dart cases were full. Each contained  
six darts, and the guns were designed to hold two at a time so that there was no need to reload  
after each shot. Locking the cabinet, she turned back to Bobby. "Don't hit him with more than one  
tranq unless he's already in Stage Four. It could kill him."  
  
Casey spoke up. "Have you tried altering the organic base of the counteragent to create an  
inhibitor effect, as opposed to the simple counter?" She had spent part of the night reviewing the  
files and had seen a few things that, perhaps, the Keeper had not.  
  
"I've only had Arnaud's files for two weeks. I've just begun an in-depth examination of what he  
did." Claire stopped, realizing what Casey's question meant. "How did you know that? Darien has  
the quicksilver files, doesn't he?"  
  
Casey didn't answer directly. "Have you looked into it?"  
  
Claire was unsure what to say. "You have nowhere near enough  
experience in the field to even make a vague guess." She turned back to the guns and picked them  
up.  
  
"Oh, please, just because I chose to work with emergency cases does not mean I don't have the  
background. My parents were into  
biochemistry and neurophysics. I kept up with both fields. Why do you think Darien came to me for  
help in the first place?" As far a Casey was concerned, the important thing was to help Darien. No  
more. No less. "Or are you just supposed to keep him controlled, hold his leash so that he'll be  
forced to continue to work here?"  
  
"Casey," Bobby warned, "don't do this. Claire has done everything she could for Fawkes. Including  
going against direct orders on occasion to help him. So have I. If there is any chance that you  
two, working together, can help Fawkes, I would suggest you put aside your animosity and do it.  
'Cause if you don't, he will go elsewhere. And he's not likely to survive the experience." Bobby  
watched as the two woman continued to glare at each other for a long moment, mentally crossing his  
fingers. If their combined efforts could give Fawkes some hope, he'd pull every string he could,  
even going to Monroe, if necessary, to get Casey the clearance she needed.  
  
Casey paled. "He said he had a meeting this morning. Someone named Stark."  
  
Bobby swore, and Claire closed her eyes. "Damn fool. We have to stop him. Do you know where?"  
  
Casey shook her head. "He wouldn't tell me."  
  
Claire shoved the guns at the two of them, then turned to grab a pad of paper and a pen. These she  
handed to Casey. "Write down your idea in detail. I'm not going to risk losing another chance to  
help him."  
  
Casey looked at her and nodded. "How do we find him?"  
  
Bobby fielded this one. "We start at the last place he was and go from there. I'm betting it was  
the Drive Inn Motel. Room fifteen?"  
  
Casey nodded. "Why didn't you grab him?"  
  
"Actually, I didn't know he was there. I only followed you from his apartment. I must have missed  
him," Bobby admitted. It's not like it was the first time Bobby had been tricked by Fawkes.  
Sometimes, when he wanted to be, the kid was very clever. With a wave of his hand, he got them  
moving. They still had to find Fawkes and convince him that there was, indeed, another way.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Darien had spoken to Stark first thing in the morning, and after a bit of persuasion had gotten him  
to agree to the addition of another person to verify the information. Since Stark would be doing the  
same before continuing their little bargain, he had little reason to truly disagree. Personally,  
Darien thought he'd been arguing just for the sake of arguing. Like he didn't want Darien to  
realize that he was more than happy with the arrangements. Darien hadn't really cared beyond  
getting him to agree and setting up a time and place that would be the least dangerous for him.  
  
At exactly ten, the phone rang, and he passed the meeting time and place on to Monroe. He warned  
her about trying anything, a warning which came from Stark, not himself. Monroe had just snorted in  
derision and reminded him who was the higher rated agent. He hung up with his head shaking and a  
small smile on his lips. One thing you could say about Monroe, she never lacked self-confidence.  
  
Having a couple hours to kill, Darien decided to get something to eat. Once the food was in front  
of him, though, he found his appetite lacking again. He couldn't remember the last time he'd  
actually sat down and finished a real meal. Too long, he knew that much, but with no interest in  
his life as it was, what was the point in eating? He'd been having difficulty sleeping as well, and  
that used to be one of his favorite pastimes. He wished he could blame it on dreams, bad burritos,  
something, but he couldn't. Whenever he lay down, all he saw was Kevin writing down his last words  
to him, his writing deteriorating towards the end as the anti-peptide shot took effect and began to  
erase the false life that the gland had given him.  
  
Darien had watched the tape he'd made for Kevin over and over again since that day, wondering what  
more he could have said. What other plea could he have made? What other demonstration of his  
situation could he have left for him so that he would understand? So he would believe?  
  
With a growl of frustration, Darien got to his feet and threw away the partially eaten meal. It had  
left a bad taste in his mouth, as well as the feeling of nausea. He was so tired of feeling this  
way. Casey had tried, but even her presence, her unwilling presence, had done nothing more than  
increase his misery. Because of him, she had been forced into just another form of servitude to the  
Agency. The Official had kept her around for the sole purpose of keeping him in line when nothing  
else seemed to work. It had been too little, too late.  
  
The Agency had made more than enough slaves. He would make sure they had no reason to keep Casey  
chained any longer. Once he was gone, she should be free to continue her life as she wished to. Be  
able to see her family again. Be able to walk without the fear of someone being after her hanging  
over her head.  
  
She had been kind enough to listen to him last night, but in the end he had turned down her offer  
of help. The little she might be able to do would not and could not ease the despair that had been  
building for so very long.  
  
Going to his car, he decided to head out to the meeting place early and check out the area. Not  
that he really cared if it was a trap. The small hope that Stark might actually be on the up-and-up  
had long since faded, leaving him nothing more than the pleasant possibility that he might actually  
do some good by going out this way. If Monroe got her son back, that would be more than worth his  
lousy and useless life. At least her son had a future to look forward to.  
  
Unlike himself.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Bobby had to flash his badge to get the manager of the motel to let them back into the room Darien  
had checked out of that morning. Even Hobbes wasn't quite sure what good it would do to check the  
place out, but they had to start somewhere. There wasn't much of anything to find. Housekeeping had  
been through already, so the garbage cans were empty, the bed was made, and the toilet was wrapped  
in one of those paper strips that claimed it had been sanitized.  
  
Casey had written down her theory about the counteragent on the drive over, and Claire was looking  
it over with a level of excitement that she was careful to keep from showing. "How did Darien get  
the quicksilver files?" she asked suddenly. "He said he was looking for the counteragent."  
  
That caught Bobby's attention. "'He said'? Keepy, what are you hiding?"  
  
Claire groaned at herself, realizing what she had just done, but figured Bobby would keep his lips  
zipped as it concerned his partner. "I caught Darien trying to get into the Keep's computer last  
night. Without success," she hurriedly added before Bobby could get the wrong idea. "I gave him a  
small dose of counteragent and watched him leave just before the security detail came in."  
  
"You gave him counteragent? Keepy, I'm shocked." Bobby was grinning like a fool. He liked it when  
Claire chose Darien over the Agency. Showed there really was a human being under that lab coat.  
Then his mind swung back to the problem at hand. "But if he didn't copy the files, who did?"  
  
Casey shrugged. "He didn't tell me. Is there anyone else, besides the two of you, who might be  
willing to help him?" Aside from letting her see the files and the comment about Stark, Darien had  
told her nothing about his plans, and she hadn't wanted to push for fear that he'd send her away.  
  
"You said he mentioned Stark?" Bobby asked her, and she nodded. "We'll assume he meant it, since  
there's been no movement on the Doc Rendell front. So, who else has an interest in Stark?" He'd  
just been thinking out loud, but the train of thought, once voiced, was enough to give both himself  
and Claire the answer.  
  
"Monroe," they said as one.  
  
"Hell, Fawkes was probably just running a distraction while she got the files. Damn it. Sometimes  
he's just too smart for his own good." Bobby paced about the room, unable to decide whether he  
should be angry or impressed with his partner.  
  
"Excuse me, who is this Monroe?" Casey asked, sounding more than slightly confused.  
  
"Alex Monroe. She's another agent. She ... her son is currently in the possession of an  
organization called Chrysalis, which is headed by Stark." Claire paused in her explanation and  
looked at Bobby. "Do you think he made a deal? For her?"  
  
Bobby stopped his pacing. "It's a kid. Of course he would. I'm just surprised Stark would go for  
it."  
  
Claire was able to easily disagree. "The quicksilver files are worth far more than one infant. All  
the information to create a new gland is in there." She felt her heart sinking. "Imagine Chrysalis  
with a score or more of invisible agents, all under their control. If they get that information, it  
could be a reality in under six months."  
  
"Ah, crap." Bobby muttered. "I have to call her." He pulled out his cell, but Claire's hand on  
his arm stopped him.  
  
"No, we have to follow her. If there is any chance at all she can get her son back through this, we  
have to give her the opportunity. Then we steal back the files before Stark can get away," Claire  
said.  
  
Bobby nodded and closed the phone. "You're right. I may not like her all that much, but I can't let  
Fawkes' effort go to waste either." He led the way back to the van. "Damn it, he could have come to  
me for help."  
  
"No Bobby, he couldn't," Casey said once she was sitting in the van. "He knew you'd try to talk him  
into going back, and he didn't want to hurt you or make you do something you didn't want to when he  
refused."  
  
Bobby started the van and pulled back out into the late morning traffic. He headed back to the  
office, hoping to arrive before Monroe left. "You know, for someone who doesn't give a damn  
anymore, he sure is making sure not to hurt the rest of us."  
  
"I noticed that myself," Claire agreed. "But how do we make him realize he has something to live  
for?"  
  
Casey sat there silent, thinking. There had to be a way.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  



	6. Chapter Six

  
  
A big, honking THANK YOU to Rebecca(WorkerCaste) for saving this section from total confusion.  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Part 6 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Hobbes watched Monroe's SUV from the driver's seat of Claire's Grand Cherokee. She and Hobbes had  
switched vehicles, since the van stuck out like a sore thumb and there was little chance Monroe  
wouldn't recognize it. Claire's vehicle, though not all that common, still blended into the  
background a bit better. They had transferred a few pieces of gear into it, the bare minimum he  
would need. As a precaution, he had also stuck a tracker under the rear bumper of Monroe's car. If  
she did manage to lose them, he would still be able to follow.  
  
Claire and Casey had gone back down to the Keep for a while, to see what they could do with Casey's  
idea. Claire was truly hoping the it was as viable as it appeared, but it might take weeks of  
research to know for sure. Not that she was complaining. New ideas, workable ideas, were more than  
welcome, though she still wished the last 'workable idea' hadn't ended the way it had. They might  
not be here right now, desperately hoping that they could find Darien before he got himself in too  
deep.  
  
Casey came out to join Hobbes just after noon. She was hoping, when they found Darien, that she  
might be able to talk him out of running and give him the news that there was hope. Hell, she'd be  
willing to promise to stay and help if he would not run, if he were willing to give her just six  
months. Six months to try and save his life.  
  
"What is this Stark like?" Casey asked.  
  
"Evil incarnate?" Bobby said offhandedly, and Casey raised an eyebrow. "He's one of the big shots  
of this organization called Chrysalis. They're supposedly preparing for some big end-of-the-world  
deal and have their fingers in a lot of pies. They also have access to some major tech. Science  
fiction type stuff." Bobby sat still as he told her the little he felt it safe for her to know.  
  
"So they could, with the information Darien plans to give them, actually solve the removal  
problem?" She was curious, more than anything. If they could do it, then anyone could, eventually.  
  
"For sure? I don't know, but I suppose it's possible. I find it more likely, though, that Stark is  
just yanking Fawkes' chain to get what he wants." Bobby looked over at Casey, and it was obvious  
that she was contemplating something.  
  
"What happened to him, Bobby? Why is he so desperate that he'd go to an enemy for help?" Casey  
needed to understand what was going on in Darien's head if she was to have any hope of influencing  
him.  
  
Bobby debated for a moment, then decided to tell her. "You know about his brother Kevin and the  
gland, right?"  
  
She nodded. "I know Kevin designed an artificial gland and implanted it in Darien for testing, but  
they later discovered that it had been altered, the side effect being what you've dubbed  
quicksilver madness."  
  
"Yeah, well, Kevin was the only one who really understood the entire thing, and he's dead. We  
learned a while back, through another incident, that Fawkes can...channel the memories of others.  
Even if they're dead. It's some weird interaction between the quicksilver gland and the pin ...  
pine..."  
  
"Pineal?" she guessed.  
  
"That's it." Bobby rubbed the back of his head, not really wanting to remember this. "Two weeks  
ago, Fawkes loaded up on his brother's memory, hoping Kevin could solve the problem."  
  
Casey sat stunned. "Memory RNA transfer? That's only theoretical."  
  
"Fawkes is a special case. It worked. When Fawkes was asleep, Kevin was awake." Bobby sighed. "We  
got Arnaud's info on the changes he made, and we let Kevin see it. He claimed to have solved the  
problem, then asked for some privacy to write it down."  
  
"He didn't, obviously. What happened?" Casey didn't like where this was going.  
  
"He wrote Fawkes a 'Dear John' letter, then erased himself from the gland. He never told any of us  
how to solve the problem. Fawkes, well, he didn't take it very well. Saw it as another betrayal."  
Bobby watched Casey for her reaction.  
  
"Kevin knows best," she muttered.  
  
"What?" Bobby wasn't sure he had heard her correctly.  
  
"Not important." Casey now understood why Darien was so insistent that he wanted out now, and why  
he didn't seem to care whether or not he survived it. "Bobby, Kevin was a fool."  
  
"He did the right thing. He did what was best for Fawkes. You haven't seen the way he's changed; I  
have. He's a better man today because of the gland," Bobby said to her.  
  
"Bullshit." Casey snapped at him. "You forget, I knew him for a year before any of this happened. I  
see how he's changed, and it's not how you think. He may have lied to me, but he was never a bad  
person. Once upon a time, though, he loved life, especially his life. Does he now? Has he been  
happy at all, really, since he came here? Or has he been looking for a way out since day one?"  
  
She was right, and Bobby knew it. Fawkes may have grown, may have learned to do and even enjoy the  
work a little, but the first thing on his mind when he woke up every morning was getting the gland  
out of his head and getting the hell out of dodge. No wonder he'd grabbed at the first offer to  
come along with the promise of success, even if it did come from the enemy.  
  
He didn't get a chance to respond, though, as Monroe chose that moment to appear and get into her  
car. He waited until she had pulled out into traffic before starting the Cherokee and following.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Darien stood under the spreading branches of the tree, watching children of various ages scream,  
play, and act like normal kids. The simple playgrounds of his youth had been replaced with these  
mammoth structures that allowed children's imaginations to run wild. Oh, it had all the normal  
equipment -- the swings, slides and monkey bars -- but it was also two stories tall, part castle,  
part spaceship, and part pirate ship. It was incredible. He was pretty sure Stark wouldn't try  
anything here, with several dozen children and their parents nearby. Stark might be a bastard, but  
he was no fool.  
  
Looking across the expanse of grass separating the playground from the baseball fields, he saw  
Monroe approaching. She was carrying her oversized laptop and looking about warily, perhaps not  
caring for the open space that she was forced to cross to get to him. It would be a good spot for a  
sniper to take a shot, Darien realized, but when he'd chosen this place he'd been thinking  
protection involving other people, not shelter from hidden dangers. Just more proof that this was  
not the line of work he was cut out for.  
  
Once Alex was sure she had garnered his notice, she walked over to a nearby picnic table and set  
the computer down on top of it. With a last wistful look at the children, Darien moved away from  
the tree and joined her. Such unreserved joy in their hearts, such simple freedom. And it left him  
with such longing.  
  
"Interesting choice for this meet, Fawkes. Whose nose are you trying to tweak: mine or Stark's?"  
  
Monroe sounded just like her usual self, cold and uncaring. Too bad it wasn't true. If she were  
that way, really, then she wouldn't be risking all this for a child she barely knew. She would have  
written him off and gone on with her life. Instead, here she was, hoping -- a desperate hope -- that  
his deal with Stark would regain her something precious that she had lost. So instead of making some  
flippant or sarcastic comment, Darien simply said, "You're welcome."  
  
Surprised at his words and at his muted tone, she nodded, unsure what to say. Darien glanced at his  
watch and frowned. "Why is it the bad guys always have to make a dramatic entrance ten minutes late?"  
  
"Perhaps we simply failed to synchronize our watches," Stark said from behind them, as he walked  
around to stand at the far end of the picnic table. He had two others with him, one of whom carried  
a laptop similar to Alex's. "Shall we?" He gestured at her computer. Stark's man set his down and  
opened it. Alex followed suit with her own.  
  
Darien reached into his jacket and withdrew the case of disks, holding them up for Stark to see.  
"I've shown you mine, now you show me yours."  
  
Stark nodded to the man on his right who pulled out a single disk in a clear plastic case. "Shall  
we switch as one and then take a minute to verify?" Stark, as usual, sounded smug and confident.  
Darien shrugged. He set the case on the table and slid it down towards the other end. The goon did  
the same.  
  
"I understand some of the information may be encrypted." He picked up the case and handed it to  
Monroe, who wasted no time getting the disk into her machine.  
  
"Expected. It shouldn't be a problem," Stark said. His man checked over the contents and then put  
one of the disks into his own machine.  
  
Darien heard Monroe suck in a breath. He turned slightly. "Everything okay?" he asked quietly.  
  
She nodded. The disk contained not only a location, but a picture as well. A chubby-faced, sleeping  
infant, about five months old. Just about the age her son would be. She knew this might very well  
just be any random infant that Chrysalis had, but hope, hope was always there, and looking at this  
child, she could not deny it. "The information appears to be legit," she said, looking up at Darien.  
  
He glanced over at Stark, who was waiting for verification from his man. After another couple of  
minutes and some switching of disks, he nodded to Stark.  
  
"Well, Mr. Fawkes, we have a deal then."  
  
"Leave, Monroe," Darien said, "Your part is over." He stepped away from her, heading for Stark,  
then paused and looked her in the eye. "Make sure you bring him home."  
  
"Fawkes..." She closed her computer and picked it up.  
  
"Just go." As he watched, she nodded, picked up the computer, and walked away. Darien turned back  
to Stark. "So, now what?"  
  
  
  
Alex made he way past the playground, where she was intercepted by Hobbes as he suddenly appeared  
from behind a tree. "Did you get the information you needed?" he asked when she stopped in surprise.  
  
"Hobbes, are you trying to screw this up?" she snarled quietly and pulled her arm from his grip.  
  
He shook his head. "Just trying to save Fawkes from himself." True enough. Now that Monroe had the  
information on her son, it was time to get his partner.  
  
Monroe turned and looked back; Fawkes was still there, talking quietly with Stark. Suddenly, a  
movement nearby caught her eye. Glancing over at the playground, she saw at least half the children  
making their way deliberately towards her. It took her a moment to understand what she was seeing.  
All of the children were armed. "Damn it," she muttered. Then she shouted, "Fawkes, it's a trap!"  
and watched as Darien whipped his head around to see the kids.  
  
Darien grabbed Stark by the lapels of his jacket and screamed, "You son of a bitch! You had to use  
kids?" One of the goons pulled out his gun and rested it against Darien's temple and Darien  
carefully released Stark.  
  
"Come now, Mr. Fawkes, did you really think I would just give away information about one of our  
training facilities?"  
  
"I expected you to keep your end of the deal," Darien snapped.  
  
"Oh, I will. In just a few short hours, the gland will be out of your head," Stark said, smiling in  
confidence.  
  
"I don't think so, asshole," Bobby shouted and began firing at the computer. Two well-placed shots  
turned it into a smoking mess of wires and circuit boards. He then began to fire at the guy who'd  
been holding the thing. One shot to the head and he was down.  
  
The guy who'd had the gun to Darien's head moved it away and began returning fire. Stark, in the  
meantime, pulled out his own gun and grabbed Darien around the throat to use him as s shield. He  
began to back them away from the gunfight.  
  
Monroe was doing her damnedest to protect Hobbes, while trying not to injure any of the kids who  
were taking potshots at them from behind the various sections of the playground. "How many clips do  
you have, Hobbes?"  
  
"Two for each." He fired at Stark's single remaining goon and winged him. Several of the kids  
broke away, moving to surround Stark and Darien, using their bodies as a shield so that their  
leader could get away.  
  
"We're a bit outgunned."  
  
"No kidding." Monroe placed another round into the playground structure, making the little  
brainwashed brats duck and stop shooting for a moment.  
  
Darien was stunned. Stark was using kids to protect him. Those same kids he'd been watching at play  
just a short time ago were all Chrysalis monsters? In that instant, he realized what a fool he had  
been being. Did he really want out of this life so badly that he'd help a bastard like this,  
someone who would use children as weapons, targets, and tools to further his own incomprehensible  
goals? No! Not now or in any other lifetime.  
  
"Stark!" he screamed.  
  
The goon next to them turned slightly and started to speak. "The copter is on the way, s..." Then  
he froze, his hand going to his chest and coming away with a tranq dart. He stared at the dart for  
a long moment, then collapsed to his knees and tipped over sideways, unconscious. The kids just  
moved in closer, guaranteeing Stark would not be fired upon. At least not by Alex or Hobbes.  
  
Darien looked around, trying to see who had shot the dart. He expected to see Claire, but instead,  
to his horror and amazement, he spotted Casey poking her head from around a nearby tree, trying to  
get another shot.  
  
"Casey, get the hell out of here!" he shouted at her. Stark squeezed a little tighter, cutting off  
his air momentarily.  
  
"What, Fawkes? Another girlfriend trying to save your worthless hide?" Stark started to drag him  
backwards, towards the open expanse of grass. "Doesn't she realize your only value is that gland in  
your head?"  
  
Casey called out to him. "Darien, don't do this. Let me help. I'll stay for as long as you need me  
to." She poked her head around the tree again. "Six months. Give me just six months."  
  
Darien didn't know what to think. Why were any of them still bothering with him, fighting for this  
lost cause he had once called his life? Why did they care, when he couldn't? He wasn't given a real  
chance to answer Casey, though; Stark's grip on his throat made sure of that.  
  
"Fawkes, it's true. Don't go with that bastard. Remember the mermaid?" Hobbes shouted at his  
partner while playing dodge 'em with the well armed midgets. They were slowly withdrawing, along  
with the few adults, intent on protecting Stark until his escape arrived.  
  
Darien closed his eyes, still not fighting Stark's hold and allowing himself to be slowly dragged  
away from his friends.  
  
His friends. Did he really want to die this way, surrounded by people who cared nothing for him?  
Stark had obviously never had any intention of helping him, or any interest in acquiring his  
gland-free services. All Stark wanted was the gland and the files; he had proven that by this  
treachery.  
  
Hobbes and Casey had come here -- had put themselves in harm's way -- to stop him, to prevent him  
from going through with this foolish and desperate bid for freedom. He could even see Monroe,  
working with Hobbes to fend off those 'children' instead of just taking off with the information on  
her son as he'd expected her to do. In her own way, for some reason, even she was trying to save him  
from himself. Could things really be as hopeless as he'd thought if Monroe -- Monroe, of all people  
-- saw something in him worth fighting for?  
  
Casey shouted to him. "Darien, you once asked me if we could try again, start over. I'm saying  
yes." She wasn't lying. She had always regretted the way things been forced to end, and with what  
she now knew she was more than willing to get to know him again. "Please!" she begged. She wanted  
to try and find the man she had fallen in love with, to see even a hint of that happiness he'd once  
possessed in his eyes again.  
  
She'd stay? With him? Even after what he'd shown her and done to her last night? Suddenly, that  
overwhelming desire to have it all over, the need to end this miserable existence, the despair that  
had become a part of him for so long, all of it vanished. Like night turning to day, he looked back  
on everything he'd been doing lately and realized he'd been acting like a complete fool. Yeah, his  
life wasn't perfect, and might never be as long as he still had the quicksilver gland, but with  
people around him who cared this much, who were willing to stand by him even when he pulled shit  
like this, could it ever really be all that bad?  
  
Finally, as if waking at last from the paralysis of a nightmare, he began to struggle in Stark's  
grip. Ignoring the gun that still jabbed him in the ribs, he shoved his elbow back hard, causing  
Stark to grunt and double over. The kids surrounding them immediately went on the offensive,  
striking at him with fists and weapons, distracting him and giving Stark more than enough time to  
recover. When Hobbes noticed Darien trying, really trying, to get away at last, he began winging a  
few shots over in that direction. He aimed more at the adults, but he couldn't help but hit one of  
the kids who purposely moved in the way to protect the elder person.  
  
Darien freaked and began to struggle all the harder, not wanting to use the quicksilver unless  
necessary. He was too close as it was, and he had no idea when he might be allowed another shot. He  
really didn't want Casey to see him like that ever again.  
  
Stark suddenly swore, and his grip loosened. Jerking away, Darien turned around to see a tranq dart  
sticking out of Stark's arm. Two of the kids nearby turned and fired at the offending party without  
hesitation. There was a scream, and then Darien saw Casey fall to the ground about ten feet away.  
  
With a shout of rage, Darien quicksilvered and waded through the kids, heedless of any damage he  
might cause or the likelihood that they would fire on him. To his surprise, he made it to Casey's  
side without feeling a bullet bury itself in his back. Looking down at her bleeding on the ground,  
part of him almost wished it would.  
  
The quicksilver dropped away as he fell to his knees beside her, not sure what to do. "Casey? Damn  
it, Casey, why?"  
  
She opened her eyes to look up at him. She had a good idea how bad it was, knew that it was very  
unlikely she would make it to a hospital, but also knew that she had done the right thing. "Darien,  
d... don't be angry."  
  
"Case, don't do this to me. I just got you back; I can't lose you now." Darien pulled her into his  
arms, part of him realizing that nothing he did, good or ill, would make a difference.  
  
"I was never yours in the first place," she managed with a pained chuckle. "Do something for me?"  
  
"Anything, Casey, just don't die." There was such anguish in is voice. He couldn't lose her, not  
now, not when she had just tried to save his stupid, worthless life from a sacrifice he was willing  
to make.  
  
"Live," she choked out. "Promise you'll live. Learn to hope again. Be happy again."  
  
"Casey, I can't..."  
  
She grabbed one of his hands. "Promise me, damn it."  
  
"I... I.." He closed his eyes, defeated. He couldn't deny her this one request, not now, no matter  
how much it hurt. "I promise."  
  
When he opened his eyes again a moment later, hers were staring sightlessly at the bright blue sky  
above them. He had no idea if she had even heard him. The tears began falling then, and he hugged  
her to his chest, rocking back and forth. He'd thought the pain he'd been feeling before could get  
no worse, but fate had conspired to prove him wrong yet again. In spite of his promise to Casey,  
part of him was wishing that someone would just shoot him, or a stray bullet from the nearby battle  
would find him and end it all. As usual, however, the one thing he thought he wanted, thought he  
needed, was not to be found.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
TBC.... in the Epilogue  



	7. Epilogue

  
  
Once again thanks to Rebecca(WorkerCaste) for being my Beta reader.  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Epilogue ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Three weeks later  
  
  
Another day, another cemetery. Another grave.  
  
This was the first real chance he'd had to come out here. He had made it to the funeral, but made  
sure to stay well in the background. He'd felt more than a little out of place among all her real  
friends and her parents, so he had watched the ceremony from afar and paid his respects long after  
everyone had left.  
  
He had been very busy, just trying to understand everything that happened, to get it straight in  
his head. Casey had come back into his life for such a short time, and unwillingly at that, but  
instead of blaming him for the turns her life had taken, she had tried to help in any way she  
could. Even when she was dying in his arms, she didn't blame him. Instead, she'd made him promise  
to live. To endure the pain and learn to find happiness again. He still hadn't figured out why.  
What could she have possibly seen, possibly known, that would have made her ask him to go on even  
as her own life drained away? He had the terrible feeling he would always wonder.  
  
He had been so convinced that he was doing the right thing. He'd even tried to go about it in a way  
that would do some good for the others. In the end -- as usual, his subconscious muttered -- he had  
caused more pain than it could be worth. Stark had gotten away, dragged off by those brainwashed  
children and the adults who had been posing as their parents. Without the QS files, though -- that  
was about the only good point. Several of the kids had been injured in the fire-fight and left  
behind by Stark. They were expendable, apparently. They were currently being treated and  
deprogrammed, along with the kids the Agency had previously rescued from Camp Teanaustaye.  
  
He, Hobbes, and Monroe had finally gotten up to that camp where Stark claimed her son was four days  
ago. It had taken longer than they thought, because the information and her computer had been  
damaged in the shoot-out. Eberts had finally pieced enough of it together, along with what Alex had  
remembered, to track the place down. It was just outside Portland, Oregon and the Official gave them  
permission to go, though they were only there to verify its existence. Not to take any action.  
  
They were too late. Oh, the place was still there and intact, but it was empty. Abandoned.  
Chrysalis had obviously cleared out once Stark had woken up and been told they still had the  
information. He really wasn't kidding when he said he didn't want to expose another 'training  
facility.'  
  
They had checked out the entire place, but all they found was a note, addressed to Darien, and a  
photograph of that same child pictured in the info Chrysalis had provided. Though there was still  
no way to really know if the child was Alex's son, it was entirely possible he was. Teasing her  
with a picture of her son was something more than perverse enough for Stark to do.  
  
At least Alex now knew her son was alive and in reasonable health. Whether that was comforting to  
her or not, Darien couldn't say. She had closed herself off almost immediately, being very careful  
not to let them see anything but the hard-eyed agent that drove them to distraction with her  
callous attitude. Both men knew differently, and understood.  
  
The note was quite plain in its threat. 'Do not interfere again.'  
  
Darien had tried to apologize to Alex for screwing up again, but she'd just shaken her head. "You  
tried, Fawkes. You kept your word, and you tried. That's more than I ever expected from you."  
  
He was beginning to wonder what was expected from him. Did they really think he was nothing more  
than an ex-con and barely reformed thief, who would be as likely to sell them out as to help? Did  
they think him no more than a lazy and self-centered whiner who did nothing but complain about his  
current unhappy existence? He had to admit it was true, to a point. Yes, he bitched about his lack  
of a life outside of work -- work he had never asked to be a part of -- but Bobby complained almost  
as much. He whined about the gland, the lack of success on the removal front, and about how everyone  
was taking him and the side effects -- the madness -- for granted these days.  
  
Kevin's high-handed decision to keep him trapped in a life he didn't want to live had been the  
final straw. Kevin hadn't even bothered to really find out what it was like for him, or how  
horrible he felt about the things he'd done and the people he had hurt and killed. Kevin had never  
really bothered to get to know him at all, not for himself anyway.  
  
Being a thief was nothing more than the physical manifestation of the free spirit he had always  
possessed. That same free spirit that he had allowed Casey to come to know. Yeah, he'd lied to her,  
but in the end he had actually decided to give it up for her. One more job, and he would go  
straight, find a real job. Maybe even go back to school. Not med school, but there were others  
things he liked: Philosophy, literature, something, anything so that he actually felt as worthy of  
her as she thought he was. But, no, he'd had to do that one last job. Just some quick cash that the  
half-dead farts at the high-priced retirement community wouldn't miss, and then he'd be done.  
  
Nothing had gone as he had planned, and now he was here, standing at Casey's grave and wondering  
why she had traded her life for his.  
  
"Fawkes, you really have a thing for cemeteries don't you?" he heard Bobby call out from behind him  
as he approached.  
  
"Well, I seem to have more than a few people I know in them." Darien commented a bit dryly.  
  
"True enough. Just don't be in such a hurry to join them, my friend. Some of us like you in the  
land of the living. We'd miss all your unique commentary and view of the world." Bobby had begun  
the sentence intending it to be flippant, but it came out far more subdued.  
  
Darien turned to him. "Why did all of you go through so much effort to keep me here, when it was  
obvious that I didn't want to be?" Since he could ask neither Kevin nor Casey, he was hoping Bobby  
might be willing to answer.  
  
Bobby was quiet for a long time, trying to put into words something that wasn't easily expressed.  
"There's just something about you, Fawkes, something special that we see and wish we had for  
ourselves." He shook his head, knowing he was not explaining this well. Fawkes was the one with all  
the words, not him. "Look, I realize you don't see much hope in your situation right now, but it is  
there. Come on, if all of us think you're worth something, don't you think there is the slightest  
chance you might be?" He moved around so that Darien was forced to look at him and not just stare  
off into the distance. "We can't all be wrong, now can we?"  
  
Darien looked at the smaller man before him, his partner, his friend, and gave him a small smile.  
"I guess not, but you could all be delusional."  
  
"Fawkes," Bobby said warningly, but with a lighter heart. Maybe things would get better from here.  
"You hungry?"  
  
Darien thought about it and realized he was. For the first time in ages. "Yeah, where to tonight?"  
  
"Oh, trust me, I know just the place," Bobby said, leading his friend away from the tombstones and  
back into the world of the living.  
  
  
"Where there is life, there is hope." Perhaps that's the lesson Casey was trying to teach me,  
there at the end. So many people -- too many, really -- had given up their lives for me. Me.  
Someday, maybe, I'll understand why. I hope.   
  
Finis  
  



End file.
